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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27333631">You Made Me A Believer</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/5BlackRoses/pseuds/5BlackRoses'>5BlackRoses</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Umbrella Academy (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(or at least mentions thereof), Addiction, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety Disorder, Depression, Diego Hargreeves is Bad at Feelings, Dysfunctional Family, Family Dynamics, Gen, Homelessness, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Mental Health Issues, On Hiatus, Prostitution, Protective Ben Hargreeves, Seizures, Social Anxiety, Temporary Character Death, Unreliable Narrator, Vanya Hargreeves Needs A Hug</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 23:33:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,618</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27333631</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/5BlackRoses/pseuds/5BlackRoses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Vanya hadn't seen or heard from Klaus in four years. This wasn't quite how she'd expected their next encounter to play out, but maybe it should have been.</p><p>Or</p><p>At first, Vanya had tried to forget her family and her childhood. Then she'd grown resentful and longed for revenge, even entertained the idea of writing a tell-all biography exposing her father and siblings. Now, she's beginning to realize that there is no going back, but there might just be a way forward.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ben Hargreeves &amp; Klaus Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves &amp; Klaus Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves &amp; Vanya Hargreeves</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>317</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Tired Of The Way That Things Have Been</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is my first attempt at a moodboard, I apologize for the quality</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    
  </p>
</div><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Hello?”</p><p>“Miss Hargreeves?”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“This is Nurse Armitage, from Lakeshore Memorial Hospital. I’m calling about your brother.”</p><p>“My brother…”</p><p>The nurse hummed in confirmation. “He was brought in an hour ago.”</p><p>“Which brother?” Vanya knew it wasn’t Luther, but Diego and Klaus were equally likely to end up in the hospital when taking into account their respective extracurricular activities and Klaus’ hatred for anywhere ghosts gathered.</p><p>Even after all these years, Vanya held out hope that Five was still out there somewhere, but she knew it was unlikely. “I really couldn’t say,” the nurse’s frown could be heard through the phone, “we only know he’s your brother because when we mentioned that we were going to call you, he mumbled ‘little sister’ in German.”</p><p>Technically all seven siblings were forced to learn Russian, German, Korean, Spanish, and French (something about Reginald trying to see if they were naturally biased towards the native language of their birthplace), but Diego had always struggled with the former three and Five favored English and Russian when speaking to Vanya, so that only left one possibility. “Klaus,” she muttered.</p><p>“Klaus,” the nurse repeated, and his fingers could be heard moving across a keyboard, “Klaus Hargreeves. He’s in our system. Has a problem with substance abuse?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Vanya confirmed, “he always said drugs and alcohol quieted the… well…”</p><p>“Ma’am, any information you can give us will help.”</p><p>“Right. Um, Klaus… has hallucinations.”</p><p>“I see. Has he been prescribed anti-psychotics?”</p><p>“Not that I know of. We haven’t spoken in a few years. Last time I saw him, he’d graduated from weed and booze to some sort of pills. The kind you get on the street.”</p><p>“Uppers or downers?”</p><p>“Ummm, I don’t know,” Vanya felt a rush of guilt, “please don’t give him any meds that aren’t absolutely necessary. Most of the… hallucinations scare him, but there is one that he talks to sometimes that he isn’t afraid of. Music also helps sometimes.”</p><p>“Alright. I’ll let the doctors know. Thank you.”</p><p>“I have to go to work but I’ll be back by 6PM tonight. Would it be possible for someone to call me with an update?”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>“Thank you. Okay… bye,” Vanya hung up the phone and promptly grabbed her meds from her bag, quickly swallowing a pill.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Throughout the day of lessons and orchestra practice, Vanya took another three pills. She knew that four in one day was probably too much, but thinking about Klaus’ situation had caused her anxiety to skyrocket beyond the baseline resulting from having to interact with human beings over the age of ten. By the time the hospital called at 6:15PM, Vanya was so numb that she almost didn’t bother to answer. Something about the fact that she hadn’t heard from Klaus in the four years since they left home got her off the couch and to the phone in time to answer before the end of the final rings.</p><p>Of all her siblings that were definitely still alive, Klaus was the most forgiving. She and Diego had been something like friends during the first two years after leaving home, while she was in college and before he got kicked out of the police academy, but one critical comment about his late night vigilantism and he’d cut her off. Vanya had spoken to Allison briefly at her sister’s wedding, but naturally the movie star was too busy being a celebrity to spend time with the ordinary sibling. Luther was… he was Number One and didn’t even consider Vanya to be part of the family; that and she was somewhat terrified of him. Regardless, the only two members of the Umbrella Academy who’d actually treated Vanya as their sister, if not an equal, with any consistency, were Ben and Five. Klaus was always too wrapped up in his own world to care, but he wasn’t actively hostile towards her, which was the pathetic benchmark against which Vanya measure her relationships with her siblings.</p><p>“Miss Hargreeves? This is Nurse Baptiste from Lakeshore Memorial. My colleague mentioned you wanted an update about your brother’s condition.”</p><p>“Please.”</p><p>“I’m sorry to tell you, he… um, your brother, has taken a turn for the worse.”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“If he has a partner you should call them now. And contact the rest of the family.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I’m very- Oh, there’s his doctor, I’ll put her on,” the nurse covered the phone’s speaker, but Vanya could still hear her call out to the doctor, “Dr. Abbott, I have Mr. Hargreeves’ sister on the line.”</p><p>“Yes, one moment,” the doctor replied, and Vanya listened to the phone changing hands before a new voice came through the speaker, “Miss Hargreeves, my name is Helen Abbott, I’m your brother’s doctor.”</p><p>“How is he?”</p><p>“We’re keeping him comfortable,” the woman said slowly, “best case scenario, he makes it a few days, worst case, a few hours.”</p><p>“He’s dying?” Vanya clarified, wishing the phone cord was long enough for her to reach her meds where they sat on the table, “are you sure?”</p><p>“It’s impossible to be 100% certain with these things, but if you want to say goodbye, you should come to the hospital as soon as you can.”</p><p>“Alright, I’ll come now.”</p><p>“Are there any other family members we should call, Miss Hargreeves?”</p><p>“If you have contact information for Diego, Allison, or Luther…” Vanya wasn’t sure what to say.</p><p>“We left a message for Diego Hargreeves at Al’s Gym, but you were the only other contact listed.”</p><p>“Oh. I’ll see if I can get ahold of any of our other siblings and then head to the hospital. Maybe thirty minutes?”</p><p>“We’ll see you then.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>When Vanya hung up the phone, she had to stop and run through several breathing exercises to slow her heartbeat enough to start looking through her address book. First she called Allison, but unsurprisingly, the number had been disconnected. The number listed for Diego was the landline for Al’s Gym, but no one answered and Vanya was too anxious to leave a message. She figured that if the hospital had already left a message, it didn’t really matter. Either he’d come or he wouldn’t.</p><p>Popping her fifth pill of the day, Vanya dialed the number for the academy. She was genuinely considering just hanging up mid-ring when Pogo answered. Not sure if she was more relieved or disappointed that Reginald wasn’t at the other end of the line, Vanya barreled forward. “Hi Pogo,” she greeted, “I’m calling for Luther.”</p><p>“Master Luther is away on a mission for Master Hargreeves,” Pogo replied, “shall I relay a message to him for you?”</p><p>“No it’s fine. Do you have updated contact information for Allison?”</p><p>“I’m afraid not, Miss Vanya.”</p><p>“Um, okay. Thanks, Pogo.”</p><p>Vanya hung up before the ape could respond. She needed to get to the hospital; Klaus wouldn’t be alone at the end, not if she could help it.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Vanya arrived at the hospital at 6:45PM on the dot. She’d been so rushed to leave the apartment that she was still carrying her violin case, but her medication got left behind on the kitchen table. <em>Fuck I’m such a mess,</em> Vanya dismissed the thought as it crossed her mind.</p><p><em>That doesn’t matter,</em> she reminded herself, <em>I don’t matter. This is about Klaus.</em></p><p>Taking a deep breath, she pulled out her ID and approached the front desk. “I’m here to see Klaus Hargreeves.”</p><p>The receptionist quickly scanned the ID card and typed into the computer before handing back the ID along with a visitor badge. “Third floor on the right. Follow the signs to Internal Medicine and ask for Dr. Abbott.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Vanya headed towards the elevator, violin clutched in one hand, visitor’s badge in the other.</p><p>When she arrive at the correct department, a nurse directed her towards Klaus’ room, saying that the doctor would be by shortly. Vanya didn’t know what to expect, so she didn’t have much of a reaction to seeing her brother hooked up to a variety of monitoring equipment including a ventilator. Then again, her lack of response might have had something to do with the number of pills she’d taken that day.</p><p>Klaus looked skinner than he had four years earlier, and the track marks on his arms were new. Vanya couldn’t see much of his face, obscured as it was by the breathing apparatus, but what she could see of it seemed quite pale. Moving closer, she began to notice smaller details, like the fingerprint-shaped bruises on Klaus’ neck, the mostly healed gash beneath his left eye, the chipped purple nail polish decorating both hands, and the ink peeking out from the palms of his loosely closed fists.</p><p>Before Vanya could investigate what exactly the tattoos depicted, she heard the door opening. “Miss Hargreeves?”</p><p>“Vanya,” she extended her hand to meet the doctor’s, trying to repress her shudder from the contact.</p><p>“I’m Helen Abbott, we talked on the phone,” Vanya nodded, waiting for the woman to continue which she did, “were you able to reach any other family members?”</p><p>The musician shrugged, shrinking in on herself. “Our father…” she began, “the family hasn’t exactly been supportive of Klaus’ life choices.”</p><p>“Well if we’re not waiting for anyone else, I can go over your brother’s condition now and answer any questions you might have,” when Vanya didn’t reply, the doctor took it as a cue to continue, “Klaus apparently had a seizure prompting a… friend to call 911. He was unconscious but relatively stable when he arrived in the ER, and began seizing again during intake. Once the ER docs had that under control, they did a physical exam and ran a blood panel. He was having difficulty breathing and had lost a lot of blood, so we admitted him until the MRI and blood tests could tell us if we were looking at an atypically presenting overdose or an underlying problem. You number was found on a card labeled ‘emergency contacts’ in his jacket.”</p><p>“Really?” Vanya frowned.</p><p>“I imagine this isn’t the first time Klaus has gotten himself into this sort of situation,” Dr. Abbott replied kindly, “individuals with high risk lifestyles often keep emergency contact information easily accessible.”</p><p>“But I’ve never been called before…”</p><p>“You’re listed as the second emergency contact,” the doctor picked up Klaus’ chart, scanning it quickly, “it’s possible that they called Diego Hargreeves first and only contacted you if he didn’t answer.”</p><p>Internally, Vanya felt her metaphorical heart shrivel. <em>Of course I’m the last choice. No matter how far from home I go, no matter how many years pass, no matter what I achieve, I’ll always be ordinary little Number Seven. Useless and ignored.</em></p><p>Dr. Abbott’s voice drew Vanya from her thoughts. “There are some decisions that need to be made,” the doctor explained, “DNR paperwork, the use of narcotics to keep Klaus comfortable, insurance and payment, that sort of thing.”</p><p>“DNR,” Vanya repeated; she knew what the acronym meant, but her brain still hadn’t processed the situation fully.</p><p>“It stands for ‘do not resuscitate,’” the doctor replied, "if there is no spouse in the picture, the decision usually falls to next of kin, a parent or adult child of the patient.”</p><p>“Dad won’t care,” the musician mumbled, realizing the connotation of her words a moment too late, “I mean… he would refuse to come in and have that conversation. I mean…”</p><p>“I think I understand,” Dr. Abbott reassured her, “given the time frame we’re working with, it should be legally acceptable for you to make the decision.”</p><p>“Oh, okay.”</p><p>“I’ll let you think about it some more. What would you like to do with regard to pain medication? Sometimes the families of patients struggling with addiction prefer to avoid narcotics.”</p><p>“He shouldn’t be in pain,” Vanya thought aloud, “you said he’s not gonna make it anyway, but he should at least be comfortable.”</p><p>“Of course,” the doctor made a note in Klaus’ chart, “usually our visiting hours end at 7PM, but given the circumstances, its fine if you want to stay the night. I would suggest handling insurance and other paperwork now so you don’t have to deal with it later.”</p><p>Vanya waited in silence as Dr. Abbott upped Klaus’ morphine drip. <em>At least he won’t have to deal with the ghosts anymore,</em> she thought, just barely nodding at the doctor as the woman said something and left.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Vanya wasn’t sure how long she slept, but she woke in the early hours of the morning, jostled into consciousness by Klaus seizing. Quickly backing up to let the medical staff do their jobs, the musician felt panic rising in her chest; clearly her meds were beginning to wear off. Briefly, she considered rushing back to her apartment to grab them, but she didn’t want to leave Klaus alone in his final moments, whether he was aware of her presence or not. While Vanya would have liked to think that her siblings would do the same for her, she knew it wasn’t true. If she was the only one who showed up when Klaus was dying, there definitely wouldn’t have been anyone showing up for her.</p><p>Somehow the medical personnel managed to stop the seizures, or maybe they stopped on their own, but either way, people began to file out of the room. Vanya’s panic seemed to recede somewhat, though she couldn’t pinpoint whether it had more to do with Klaus’ condition or the dwindling number of people in her general vicinity. As she pulled the chair back towards the bed, she heard the door open and a nurse she didn’t know entered.</p><p>“Miss Hargreeves, you’re welcome to stay, but if you plan to do so, I would suggest calling out of work and then going down to the cafeteria for something to eat.”</p><p>“Alright,” Vanya didn’t want to leave the room, but she didn’t want to cause trouble either and she did need to cancel her lessons for the day, “I’ll do that.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>While Vanya was on the ground floor paying for a sandwich she had no plan to eat, Klaus flatlined. She reached his room just in time to see the doctor put down the paddles and hear him say, “time of death, 6:09AM.”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Story title is from the song "Believer" by Imagine Dragons. Chapter names will probably come from various other Imagine Dragons lyrics.</p><p>If anyone can guess where I'm getting the names of the medical personnel, I'll be very impressed.</p><p>I've never posted on a schedule before, but I'm gonna try for weekly updates with this one. We'll see how it goes.</p><p>Please let me know what you think, I don't really know where this is going.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Hoping That I Make It To The End Of December</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Klaus' POV</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>At 6:14AM, Klaus Hargreeves opened his eyes. Then he closed them again. He wiggled the toes of his right foot, then those of his left. He wiggled the fingers of his right hand, then the fingers of his left; at least, he tried to. Klaus could feel his fingers attempting movement, but something warm, heavy, and vaguely damp kept the limb pinned to the bed. Based on the sandpaper-like feeling of his throat, someone, or possibly several someones, had recently received the fellatio of their lifetime(s). While it was far from the first time Klaus had ended up in this sort of situation, he could have sworn that his most recent bout of consciousness occurred in a hospital; he was pretty sure they didn’t throw people out while still unconscious. Then again, his memory was less than stellar these days.</p><p><em>First things first, </em>Klaus decided, <em>I need water. </em>Once again he attempted to lift his left hand. The limb was still pinned, but some of the weight was removed. “Klaus?”</p><p>Mentally, Klaus congratulated himself; apparently he’d managed to hookup with someone who not only allowed him to stay the night, but also had asked for (and remembered) his name. The latter detail significantly increased his chances of getting a free, and hopefully homemade, breakfast before he was inevitably kicked back onto the streets.</p><p>“Klaus?” the voice repeated.</p><p><em>Something’s not right,</em> he realized, his brain registering the voice as familiar, female, and concerned for his well-being,<em> I haven’t gone home with a woman since that giant snowstorm last winter.</em></p><p>Klaus wasn’t a fan of engaging in sexual activities with the opposite sex, but when business was too slow or the weather got too bad, he stomached it. Ladies tended to let him stay the night more often, especially when it was snowing or the temperature dipped below freezing. <em>Shit, I’m getting distracted again. First water, then the medicine cabinet, then breakfast.</em> Unfortunately, all his plans required opening his eyes and getting out of bed, two activities he would rather avoid.</p><p>“Klaus? Can you hear me? Fuck, what do I do?” the definitely-female possibly-a-hookup-possibly-a-client seemed to realize he wasn’t going to respond and was talking to herself instead, “the doctor! I need to get the doctor.”</p><p>The weight pinning Klaus’ left hand to the bed disappeared and he found himself almost missing the contact. <em>She’s getting a doctor,</em> the information finally sunk in,<em> I’m still at the hospital then. </em></p><p>Klaus made a second attempt at opening his eyes. It was too bright and he snapped them shut once again, finally noticing the distinct lack of ghosts around. He couldn’t hear them nor see them, not even Ben; that alone, was highly unusual. Getting high to quiet the ghosts was one thing, but the last time his brother’s ghost disappeared without saying goodbye was when Klaus had snorted a ridiculous amount of cocaine cut with something nasty. He was pretty sure he actually died for a few minutes that night.</p><p><em>The </em><em>doctors must </em><em>not know I’m a junkie,</em> Klaus concluded, t<em>hey definitely wouldn’t have given me that much of the good shit if they knew.</em> Deciding to figure out how to pilfer some morphine-to-go on his way out of the hospital, he focused on reanimating his limbs. His fingers and toes all seemed relatively functional, though each tiny movement was painful. In fact, everything hurt, even breathing hurt. If they’d given him enough morphine to make Ben disappear, he shouldn’t be in this much pain.</p><p>Klaus was accustomed to always being in pain, one way or another, but this all-at-once thing was definitely new. So was the lungs-feeling-like-they-were-full-of-particularly-scratchy-wool thing. <em>No, that’s not quite it,</em> he frowned internally because doing so physically was too difficult, <em>it’s like someone picked twenty of the wooliest sheep in the universe, dipped them in battery acid, and then made me swallow them… maybe not battery acid…</em></p><p>His consideration of whether or not a sheep could survive in battery acid if it kept it’s head above the surface and whether the acid would impact the wool’s structural integrity or relative itchiness was cut short by two voices at his bedside. “I promise, I’m not making it up. He really did move his fingers,” that was the woman who’d run out to get the doctor; her voice seemed even more familiar than it had earlier, but Klaus still couldn’t place it.</p><p>“Ma’am,” a second voice, presumably the doctor, said, “I know it can be hard to process, but he’s gone.”</p><p>If Klaus had felt capable of panicking, he probably would have, but at things stood, he was too tired (and probably too high) to do anything even remotely energy-consuming. <em>Talking should convince them I’m not dead,</em> he figured, and did his best to make a quip about how he was being ignored. All that came out was a scratchy moan, but it still did the job.</p><p>“Mr. Hargreeves?” the doctor rushed over, grabbing the wrist of Klaus’ right hand, “can you hear me?”</p><p>Talking hadn’t worked out so well the first time he tried, so the patient settled for nodding. Apparently moving his head wasn’t a great idea either because the simple back-and-forth sent the world spinning, a remarkable feat given his eyes were still closed and he was lying down. By the time Klaus became aware of the goings-on around him once more, he’d been hooked up to a heart monitor and an IV drip. His third attempt at keeping his eyes open failed because the doctor decided that would be the appropriate moment to shine a pen light directly in the patient’s face, but Klaus’ forth attempt was successful.</p><p>Eyes adjusting slowly to the light, his gaze immediately fell on… Vanya?</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Klaus blinked a few times, squinted, and blinked again for good measure, but his sister was still there. <em>What the hell is going on,</em> he wondered, <em>what is Vanya doing here?</em> He tried to call out to her, but suddenly the doctor was speaking again and Klaus spaced out. When he returned to awareness, the doctor was gone and Vanya was sitting beside the bed. Her eyes were puffy and red; clearly she’d been crying. Klaus had always hated it when Vanya cried, all the siblings did, but being the cause of it felt infinitely worse.</p><p>“Van…?”</p><p>“I’m here,” she scooted closer, reaching out as if to hold his hand, but quickly withdrawing her arm.</p><p>“What…” speaking was far more difficult than it should have been, “why’re you ’ere?”</p><p>For a second, Vanya appeared offended, maybe even hurt, but the emotional expression disappeared as suddenly as it had arrived. “You died, Klaus.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A little short, but I hope you enjoy</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Rather Be The Hunter Than The Prey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Enter Diego, armed with vague concern and too many knives.<br/>Exit Vanya, pursued by her own anxiety.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>“Well that’s stupid,” Klaus frowned, “bein’ dead shouldn’t hurt so much.”</p><p>“No, I mean you died, but you’re not dead anymore,” Vanya rushed to correct herself.</p><p>“Huh.”</p><p>“Yeah, um…” the musician was at a loss for words; she hadn’t seen Klaus in years and while he seemed to be more confused than angry, she was pretty sure he didn’t want her around.</p><p>“But why are <em>you</em> here, Vanny?” he repeated.</p><p>Vanya didn’t know whether she felt more anxious or hurt, but either way, she felt like she was losing control of something inside herself. Before she managed to come up with a suitable reply, Klaus’ attention had shifted elsewhere. “Oooh, play for me, mein liebe schwester?”</p><p>Following his gaze, Vanya saw her violin case, propped against the wall in a corner. “I don’t know if I’m allowed…”</p><p>“Please,” her brother whined, “please, please please?”</p><p>“Um… well, alright,” she gave in easily, it had been many years since any of her siblings had something nice to say about her music, “but only until the doctor comes back.”</p><p>“Yay,” Klaus clearly tried for excited clapping, but his movements were still sluggish.</p><p>Vanya allowed herself to smile a little as she crossed the room to retrieve the instrument; despite her meds beginning to wear off and the whole brother-that-she-hasn’t-seen-in-years-dying-then-coming-back-to-life thing, she felt surprisingly content.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Three quarters of the way through Brahms Violin Sonata No. 3, the doctor reentered the room. Vanya almost didn’t notice his presence, which was odd given how hyperaware of other people she usually felt. The man, who’d introduced himself earlier as Dr. Santiago Ramón, gestured for her to continue, so Vanya finished off the piece before sheepishly returning her instrument to its case. “Sorry,” she mumbled.</p><p>“You’re very talented,” the doctor smiled kindly, “I’m just here to go over Klaus’ condition and treatment options. After that, feel free to resume playing. If you have the time and inclination, I’m sure our geriatric ward would enjoy an impromptu concert.”</p><p>“So, you mentioned treatment options?” Vanya changed the subject.”</p><p>“Yes, of course. Mr. Hargreeves,” Dr. Ramón turned to the patient.</p><p>“Aw, don’t go all formal on me now, doc,” Klaus interrupted, “you’re gonna hurt my feelings.”</p><p>“Klaus,” the doctor tried again, “beyond the drug overdose, the seizures it caused, and the malnutrition, you have severe pneumonia and a mild case of chlamydia. The seizures did cause a partially healed laceration on your abdomen to re-open, but that’s been cleaned and sutured. Several of your ribs are also fractured, though remodeling suggests the initial injury occurred about a week ago.”</p><p>“So that’s why breathing hurts so much,” the patient attempted a chuckle but it soon devolved into a coughing fit.</p><p>Once the coughing had subsided, Dr. Ramón continued. “We’ve already started you on antibiotics and your ribs will heal with time. As for the drug abuse and its side effects…”</p><p>As the man trailed off, Vanya could feel both his and Klaus’ eyes on her. “Sorry,” she sniffled, “please keep going.”</p><p>“Oh, Vanny,” her brother cut in hoarsely, “don’t cry over little old me. I’ll be fine.”</p><p>“Miss Hargreeves… Vanya,” the doctor corrected himself, “why don’t you step outside for a bit and take a breather. I’m gonna have to discuss some sensitive topics with your brother soon and that would need to be done in private regardless.”</p><p>Vanya knew the excuse was edging on bullshit, but she took the opportunity to escape anyway. “I’ll go out for a bit,” she stood, grabbing her violin case and hugging it to her chest like a small child would a teddy bear, “be back in a half hour or so.”</p><p>“Jal-ga, my dearest sister,” Klaus called after her.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>In his personal opinion, Diego ended up in this particular situation way too often. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d returned to the gym after a night of heroism and managed fewer than three hours of sleep before waking abruptly to someone banging on his door, but whatever the number was, it should have been much lower. Sometimes it was Al and sometimes it was Klaus, but the former situation often led to the latter, so he didn’t bother differentiating.</p><p>Occasionally, Diego happened to be mopping the floor or beating on a sandbag when the phone rang with news of Klaus’ most recent hospitalization, but the way it turned out this particular morning involved a pre-coffee Al which was never a good thing. “Would it kill you to check the fucking voicemail?”</p><p>“What is it, Al?” Diego glanced longingly at his bed.</p><p>“Your junkie brother’s in the hospital again.”</p><p>“Which hospital?”</p><p>“Lakeshore Memorial or something like that,” Al glared at his tenant, “I’m not your damn secretary.”</p><p>“Shit, that’s all the way across town.”</p><p>“Fine, you can have the morning off,” from the gym owner’s tone of voice alone, one might assume the man was being asked to relinquish his first born.</p><p>“I didn’t say anything,” Diego defended himself.</p><p>“Yeah, but you didn’t have to,” Al sighed, “go on, get outta here. You’re too nice to that kid. If I had a sibling like that, I’d leave ’im to rot.”</p><p>“Sure you would, Al,” the younger of the two men chuckled, grabbing his jacket and car keys, “I’ll be back once I know the little shit’s still breathing.”</p><p>In truth, Diego wasn’t sure how he felt about Klaus. He was tired of being called to police precincts and hospitals about his flighty, drug-abusing brother, but at the same time, he didn’t like the idea of Klaus living on the street. A couple of times, Diego (or the justice system) had forced his brother into rehab, but it never stuck, so he didn’t bother trying to find Klaus a job or a place to live. The best he could do was show up when the hospital (or police station as the case may be) called and feed Klaus every few months when he would appear near the gym with wide eyes, shaking hands, and too many bruises.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Like a sign from the universe telling him to turn around, Diego hit rush hour traffic and the drive to the hospital took double the time it should have. Thankfully, he knew the receptionist on duty (from the last time he’d gotten shot in a place he couldn’t reach well enough to stitch up on his own) and she gave him a visitor’s pass and the correct room number without any trouble and with minimal flirting. He got a few suspicious glances in the elevator on his way up, so Diego made sure to keep his jacket on as he moved down the hall; apparently he’d fallen asleep without changing or even de-knifing. No wonder his back hurt.</p><p>While it wasn’t the first time Klaus had actually been admitted to the hospital, it didn’t happen often and when it did, the reason usually involved Klaus being too injured or unconscious to escape the ER. Suffice to say, Diego had significant cause for anxiety. When he entered the room, a doctor was talking to Klaus, though the patient didn’t appear to be listening, preoccupied by the nonverbal argument he was having with the empty corner. “Doc,” Diego announced his presence, “what’s the damage this time?”</p><p>“And you are?”</p><p>“Diego Hargreeves. This idiot’s brother.”</p><p>“Right,” the doctor glanced at the visitor’s pass, seeming to find it satisfactory, “well, pneumonia, an STD, broken ribs, and seizures were the main concerns until about five minutes ago. I was trying to speak with Klaus about a free addiction treatment program associated with this hospital and he stopped listening and started arguing with a hallucination.”</p><p>“Yeah. Whatever drugs he was on are probably wearing off by now, so expect that to continue.”</p><p>“We didn’t think he would make it through last night,” Dr. Ramón (as his badge identified him) admitted, “so we tried to keep him comfortable. He coded several times, but by some sort of miracle, he survived, so we’re weaning him off the painkillers now.”</p><p>“Less of a miracle, more like stubbornness,” Diego muttered, moving closer to the bed, “hey shithead, you need to listen to the doc.”</p><p>“Shut it,” Klaus snapped at the corner before turning to smile brightly at his brother, “Di! You’re here!”</p><p>“Nice to see you’re still alive, Klaus. You had the doctors worried for a bit.”</p><p>“Yeah, well death doesn’t like me, apparently. That little brat.”</p><p>“Klaus, I’ll be back to speak with you later,” Dr. Ramón smiled stiffly, heading for the door.</p><p>“I should go too,” Diego took a seat on the edge of the bed, “you’re gonna be stuck here for a bit, but I’ll come back in a few days when it’s time to check out.”</p><p>“Come on, Diego, you know I hate hospitals,” Klaus whined.</p><p>“Well then you should quit the drugs and get a job and somewhere to live,” he didn’t like being so tough on his brother, but it was the most he could do to help when Klaus seemed so determined to always choose the worse of any two options he was given, “I’ll see you soon, but I gotta go back to work.”</p><p>With a final pat to his brother’s leg, Diego stood, leaving the room. He did make sure to stop by the nurses’ station on his way out, though; if nothing else, they could try to convince Klaus to take the full antibiotic course. Preoccupied with trying to figure out how he would fit Klaus’ medical bills into his already-tight monthly budget, Diego didn’t notice Vanya, wide-eyed and trembling, a few steps away from the elevator.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>When she returned to the room, Vanya was shaking; she really needed her meds. Now. “Klaus? I gotta…”</p><p>“Jeez, Van, what happened? Did you run into Diego or something?”</p><p>Vanya nodded, then shook her head. She hadn’t actually interacted with her knife-wielding vigilante of a brother so much as been deliberately ignored by him. “You know how he is, I’m sure he didn’t mean whatever he said,” Klaus reassured her.</p><p>“Um, I need to go home,” Vanya tried again, “I’ve been here since 7PM yesterday evening and left my meds at the apartment.”</p><p>She saw her brother pout a bit in her direction before tuning his head to glare at the corner. “How come you’re never <em>this </em>worried about me?” he snapped.</p><p>Vanya knew better than to ask who Klaus was talking to; she probably didn’t want to know and even if she did, he would probably lie or make it into a joke instead of answering. “I’ll come back this afternoon,” she decided aloud, “please listen to the doctors.”</p><p>“Pak-ah, Vanya,” Klaus waggled the fingers of his ‘goodbye’ hand at her.</p><p>“Do Skorogo, Klaus,” she managed a smile, heading out the door, but only made it a few steps before she heard the shouting.</p><p>“Just go away,” he brother was yelling, “leave me alone!”</p><p>Wincing in sympathy, Vanya kept walking towards the elevator. “Ben, if you’re there, please look after him,” she whispered.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>“Mein liebe schwester” is “my dearest sister” in German, “jal-ga” is an informal way of saying “goodbye” in Korean, “pak-ah” is an informal way of saying “goodbye” in Russian, and “do skorogo” is “see you” in Russian.</p><p>Just a heads up, but updates might slow down for a bit.</p><p>Ch. 4: Klaus POV</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Broken From A Young Age</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Klaus' POV</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Klaus was officially more sober than he’d been in months and it sucked. As always, Ben appeared first, a few minutes after Vanya stepped out the first time, and he’d had some choice words to say about Klaus’ behavior. By the time Diego left, there was an unidentified child crouched in the corner and a skinny teenager trying to jump out of the window repeatedly, only to end up back inside each time. A few more ghosts appeared while Vanya was excusing herself for the second time, but Klaus did his best to ignore everyone but his siblings, both living and not, until the two walked out together.</p><p>“Go away,” he snapped at them, “leave me alone for once!”</p><p>The ghosts, now totaling to five, continued approaching the bed, some of them calling his name, and Klaus vaguely registered the beeping of the heart monitor speeding up. Just as the patient began to feel like he might suffocate, and die for the second time in as many days, Ben returned, immediately moving to his brother’s side. “Take a deep breath, Klaus. In and out, they can’t hurt you.”</p><p>Apparently these were nice, understanding ghosts, because all but the child listened to Ben’s instructions to back off and leave his panicking brother alone for the moment. Though he appreciated the extra space, Klaus still made a face at his brother. “You make it sound so simple, Benarino,” he croaked, “pneumonia, remember? Functional lungs aren’t a given.”</p><p>“You wouldn’t have pneumonia if you quit the drugs and stayed at a shelter when the weather got bad,” Ben shot back.</p><p>“You’re a broken record, mon chou. What are you doing here anyway? I thought you cared more about Vanya than me?”</p><p>“I do care more about her,” Ben dropped himself into the chair where the aforementioned sister had been seated earlier, “but she asked me to look after your sorry ass.”</p><p>“I think you’re finally going nuts, dear brother. Vanny doesn’t have any powers and I’m the family medium, thank you very much.”</p><p>“Obviously she couldn’t see me, dumb ass,” the ghost’s expression transformed from annoyance into melancholy, “but she requested that if I could hear her, I would try keeping you alive.”</p><p>“Well wasn’t that sweet of her.”</p><p>“Just do what the doctors say until Vanya comes back. If you’re nice to her, maybe she’ll let you crash at her place when it gets too cold to sleep on the streets.”</p><p>“I’m always nice to Van.”</p><p>“Yeah, like how you asked her why <em>she</em> came to the hospital? That really hurt her feelings.”</p><p>“Oh,” Klaus realized how the question might have sounded to his quiet, sensitive sister, “well shit.”</p><p>His ghostly brother didn’t say anything, but appeared quite satisfied. “I need a drink,” the patient sighed, hearing someone knock on the door, “come in.”</p><p>“You know, staying sober would be a great way to make it up to Vanya,” Ben suggested.</p><p>“Now that’s just manipulative.”</p><p>“What’s manipulative?” the doctor who’d just entered asked, “you did say I could come in.”</p><p>“I wasn’t talking to you, doc,” Klaus explained, sticking his tongue out at Ben, “my little shit of a brother was tying to manipulate me into abandoning my only functional coping mechanism.”</p><p>“I see,” the doctor took a seat, carefully avoiding the chair that her patient addressed when mentioning his brother, “some coping mechanisms are healthier than others.”</p><p>“Well he doesn’t like any of mine.”</p><p>“That’s because they’re all horribly self destructive,” Ben argued.</p><p>“Quiet,” Klaus muttered in his brother’s direction, “I’m trying to talk to the doctor. Didn’t you want me to cooperate with them?”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“I’m Dr. Franklin,” the woman who’d just entered introduced herself, “Dr. Ramón asked me to come by for a consult.”</p><p>“Yes, yes. You’re here to tell me I’m crazy, I know the drill.”</p><p>“We try not to use that word around here.”</p><p>“Excusez-moi, please continue.”</p><p>“Well, I see you’ve already noticed that I’m a psychiatrist, so we need to go over a couple legal things and then we can chat, alright?”</p><p>Much to Ben’s annoyance, Klaus zoned out for most of the conversation about legalities, only speaking when asked a question, but he’d been through this many times before, so his brother should really be less judgmental. “So Klaus, is there something specific you would like to talk about?”</p><p>“Oooh, tell her about the time you pissed in Dad’s gas tank after my funeral,” Ben suggested, “I’m sure it will get her inner-Freud all worked up.”</p><p>“Those were the days,” Klaus chuckled, “what about the time we replaced Luther’s dumbbells with hollow lookalikes? That was hilarious.”</p><p>“Who’s Luther?” Dr. Franklin cut in.</p><p>Klaus turned away from Ben to address the doctor. “My asshole brother who was always telling me how to live my life when we were younger,” he replied, turning back to his ghostly brother, “then again, maybe Five deserves the title of senior asshole. After all, Five was a dick at 13, Luther took longer to grow into it.”</p><p>“Is Luther the brother you were talking to when I came in?” the doctor asked, “I know a Diego Hargreeves came by earlier today.”</p><p>“I was talking to Ben actually,” Klaus explained, “you know, now that I think about it, Di’s a bit of a prick himself. How did we all become such crappy people?”</p><p>“Given who raised us, it’s hardly a surprise.”</p><p>“Very true, brother mine, the old man’s the ultimate bastard.”</p><p>“So you have three brothers?” Dr. Franklin surmised, “or four? Five is quite an androgynous name.”</p><p>“Five’s a boy… The Boy,” Klaus giggled, “at least he was when he ran away and got lost in the space-time continuum.”</p><p>“So Vanya is your only sister, then?”</p><p>“There’s Allison too, though these days she’d rather pretend that none of us exist.”</p><p>“Seven children, that’s a big family.”</p><p>“Seven little Hargreeves playing tricks, Five ran off and then there were six,” Klaus improvised, “six little Hargreeves, playing with knives, Number Six got-”</p><p>“That’s enough!” Ben interrupted.</p><p>“Oh, Benny’s angry,” the patient explained to Dr. Franklin, “I guess he didn’t like my song.”</p><p>“Is Ben often angry with you?”</p><p>“Nah. Mostly annoyed or disappointed.”</p><p>“Or frustrated. Or exasperated,” Ben continued to suggest adjectives until Klaus flipped him the bird.</p><p>“So he’s usually around?”</p><p>The patient refocused. “He’s obsessed with me, can’t get a minute to myself,” Klaus chortled, quickly devolving into a coughing fit.</p><p>“I guess I’ll be going then,” the ghost in question sneered at his brother.</p><p>“Wait, no, Beeeen,” Klaus called after him, “I didn’t mean it, I love you, bro!”</p><p>Dr. Franklin watched her patient frown at the closed door, trying and failing to hide her amusement. “Ben left,” Klaus informed her, “he’ll be back though. Eventually.”</p><p>The doctor nodded. “Is there anyone else in the room that I should know about?”</p><p>“There’s the kid hiding under the bed, the guy who keeps trying to jump out the window, and a couple of others. Though suicide boy seems to know you.”</p><p>“Does he?”</p><p>“Mmm,” Klaus hummed, turning to look at the ghost in question, “he says you tried your best but his mother didn’t let him refill his meds.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Let’s get back to talking about you,” the doctor redirected the conversation.</p><p>“Ah yes, me. You know the others hate that I talk so much.”</p><p>“The others?”</p><p>“My loving brothers and sisters of course.”</p><p>“I see. Do you often feel that your siblings are upset with you?”</p><p>“Ben’s the only one I see regularly anymore, but that’s just ’cause he’s haunting me. He’s meaner than Diego but less violent,” the patient laughed, “it’s always ‘stop doing drugs, Klaus’ and ‘put on more clothing, Klaus’ and ‘don’t go home with strangers, Klaus.’ Honestly, the repetition is getting old.”</p><p>“That all sounds like pretty reasonable advice.”</p><p>“Yeah, whatever. Like they’d know.”</p><p>“You mentioned Diego can be violent,” Dr. Franklin motioned for Klaus to elaborate.</p><p>“He’s got a lot of anger bottled up. Likes knives way too much; it’s a little creepy.”</p><p>“And does he hurt you?”</p><p>“Not when I ask him to,” Klaus pouted cutely, “not even if I say pretty please.”</p><p>“What about the bruises on your neck? Your chart notes similar ones on your hips.”</p><p>“I’m sure it also notes that I’ve got chlamydia. Use your imagination. Anyway, incest isn’t Diego’s thing; Allison and Luther covered that disturbing element of family life.”</p><p>“So you said Ben is the only sibling you see regularly. Why is that?”</p><p>“I think I already answered that question, then again, Ben always says that my memory’s shit. He only hangs around ’cause I can see him. If Vanya could see Ben, he’d haunt her instead; she was always his favorite. Five’s favorite too. Kinda makes you wonder why they both abandoned her….” Klaus sighed, guilt seeping into the far reaches of his awareness, “okay, I guess that’s not fair. It wasn’t Ben’s fault. Five though, if he was gonna run away, he should have let Vanya come with him.”</p><p>“So Five ran away and Ben is…”</p><p>“Dead.”</p><p>“I’m sorry to hear that., The rest of your siblings are still alive though? Is that why only Ben… haunts you?”</p><p>“Yup. Which means that Five’s technically still alive, he’s just too much of an arrogant prick to pop in and inform us that he didn’t meet an untimely demise at the tender age of thirteen. Just back off!” Klaus’s shout was directed at one of the ghosts who was slowly creeping towards the bed.</p><p>“Who were you shouting at just now?” Dr. Franklin asked, clearly startled but with most of her composure intact.</p><p>“Some ghost. Let me at your morphine stash and he’ll go away.”</p><p>“So that’s how you manage the… ghosts? Drugs and alcohol make them go away?”</p><p>“Mostly. Ben only goes away if I do cocaine or apparently when I get a high enough dose of morphine. Sometimes he also leaves if he’s upset with me or finds someone reading a good book. When he thinks I’m in danger, he won’t leave, even if he’s angry. Isn’t that sweet?”</p><p>“It’s certainly interesting.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Just lay it on me, doc,” Klaus attempted another sigh but it turned into to a wet cough, “withdrawal-induced delirium, schizophrenia, peduncular lesions, or am I just making it all up?”</p><p>“When did you start self-medicating to manage the ghosts?” the psychiatrist ignored his question, “did the ghosts show up before or after the first time you consumed drugs or alcohol?”</p><p>“Ghosts have been around for as long as I can remember and I first raided Daddy’s liquor cabinet… I don’t remember. Ben probably knows, I’ll ask him when he comes back.”</p><p>“I think that of all the conditions you listed are possible, though unlikely. Peduncular hallucinosis and sleep deprivation are decent candidates, but a benign gowth in your temporal lobe or optic path is the best explanation.”</p><p>“Except my MRI was clean.”</p><p>“There is that.”</p><p>“Maybe it’s anxiety-induced,” Klaus suggested, “I do have very bad anxiety."</p><p>“Hmmm,” Dr. Franklin made a note in his chart but the patient didn’t bother trying to sit up and read the text upside down.</p><p>“Vanny has anxiety too, she got diagnosed when we were like five, I think, and started taking meds for it then. That’s why you didn’t get to meet her; she had to go back to her apartment to get her meds because she forgot to bring them with her last night. They’re the as-needed kind, and she ran into Diego earlier so… well, they were needed.”</p><p>“I see. What about Diego do you think triggered Vanya’s anxiety response?”</p><p>“He’s angry, she’s sensitive,” Klaus shrugged, “like I said, Di’s a bit of a jerk… wait, were you here for that conversation?”</p><p>“I was.”</p><p>“So anyway, anxiety runs in the family. Me, Vanya… Diego even had a speech impediment when we were younger. See doc? Clearly I need a prescription. It’s not my fault, it’s genetic.”</p><p>“Miss Hargreeves, sorry, Vanya mentioned that you are all adoptive siblings, not biological.”</p><p>“Why would she say that? Spilling the family secrets, I can’t believe she would share something so <em>personal</em>,” Klaus couldn’t keep himself from dramatizing a bit, in another life he could have been an actor, maybe even a comedian, “I’m hurt.”</p><p>“She brought it up when Dr. Ramón asked about a family history of schizophrenia.”</p><p>“Oh, I guess that makes sense… but you see, that’s just another source of anxiety. Why did my birth family give me up?” the patient giggled, “just kidding, Reggie bought us. Like little superpowered house pets.”</p><p>“I don’t doubt you had a difficult childhood, Klaus, and I’m sure many developmental psychologists would be interested in hearing all about it,” Dr. Franklin was clearly going for sympathy and kindness, but her tone edged on pity and condescension, “I’m here for a consult to address potential psychiatric causes for your hallucinations. Schizophrenia has been ruled out, if sleep-deprivation was the cause, you wouldn’t have survived this long, withdrawal-induced delirium, DTs, are technically possible, but doubtful if you truly started seeing ‘ghosts’ before any substance use. Neurology isn’t my specialty, so PH, tumors, and other lesions… not my place to diagnose.”</p><p>“Ah, that makes sense,” the patient smiled, batting his eyelashes a little, “but you can help me out by prescribing anxiety meds. Like Diazepam, for instance.”</p><p>“I could, but I’m not going to.”</p><p>“Aw, come on, doc. Don’t be like that.”</p><p>“It was nice meeting you, Klaus,” Dr. Franklin stood, her smile seemed honest (in Klaus’s expert opinion), suggesting that she had actually enjoyed the conversation.</p><p>“Wait, doc,” he stopped her before she reached the door, “one of the ghosts says he’ll be able to move on if I give you a message. I don’t actually believe him, but it appears I’m gonna be hanging out here for a while, so I’ll give it a shot. The fewer folks yelling at me 24/7, the better.”</p><p>“Sure. What does this ghost want to tell me?”</p><p>“His name is Frederik Philips,” Klaus began, pausing when the other ghosts started getting to loud for him to distinguish between the voices, “would you all just shut up for a minute? Once Freddie goes to the light, you can have attention.”</p><p>Dr. Franklin waited for him to continue; clearly the name had piqued her interest. “<em>Anyway,</em> Fred here want you to stop feeling guilty for him offing himself. He managed to hide his meds until he needed refills and his mom caught him trying to go to the pharmacy and was all like ‘no more pills for you,’ and he was like ‘but mother, I need them,’ and she was like ‘nah,’ and didn’t let him leave the house,” Klaus nodded, “I get it, man, my dad was like that, called it ‘cowardice undeserving of a true man’ or something; I wasn’t really listening.”</p><p>While he’d been speaking, the doctor had fallen into a chair, hand over her mouth. “I don’t know how you learned that name, but I guess I understand why you call them ghosts. I need to go.”</p><p>“Bye, doc,” the patient waggled the fingers of his GOODBYE hand at her back, then he turned to address the ghosts crowding around his bed, “I’ll talk to you guys if you move 3ft back. If you keep this up, I’m gonna go steal some narcotics from some poor hapless patient and make you disappear.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"mon chou" is a French endearment that literally means "my cabbage" but functions similarly to "sweetie"</p><p>Chapter 5 is written (Ben's POV) but Chapter 6 is not, so updates might slow down a bit from here on.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Find The Wrong Within The Past</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ben's POV</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Rating changed for reasons evident in the tags. </p><p>TW: references to domestic abuse, depression, suicidal thoughts, self harm</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Not for the first time, Ben considered trying to move on. When he’d first died, he was too scared to follow the voices intent on guiding him into the light, but now he wondered if he’d given up his only chance at finding peace (or whatever was waiting on the other side) that day. On one hand (HELLO), he was immensely thankful for the extra years with his brother, but on the other (GOODBYE), being a ghost was frustrating.</p><p>Sure Ben could be seen by his brother, even talk to him, but he still couldn’t keep Klaus from spiraling into addiction, prostitution, and eventually homelessness. If he still had a physical body, the stress would have given him an ulcer years ago; then again, with a physical body, Ben could probably do more to help. Or maybe not.</p><p>Sometimes he wondered if Klaus was just a lost cause, someone beyond saving. Of course, Ben felt horribly guilty after such thoughts and spent the next few days cooperating with his brother’s even whim (or most of them anyway), but in his most emotionally-detached, analytical moments, the ghost wondered if his presence in Klaus’ life actually made any difference. <em>Okay, maybe not that emotionally-detached,</em> Ben admitted to himself, <em>I want to matter, so sue me.</em></p><p>He sighed, smiling at the child with a balloon who’d clearly come to visit someone, and once more considered what would have happened if the seven Hargreeves siblings had been raised with a little more love and understanding. Would Vanya have developed a debilitating anxiety disorder? Would Five have run away? Would Diego have turned to vigilantism for a sense of self-worth? Would Luther have felt too much like an outcast to ever leave home? Would Allison have been incapable of cultivating honest relationships? Would Klaus have been killed (intentionally or not) multiple times before the age of twenty four? Would Ben himself have died?</p><p>Truly, he knew better than to entertain ‘what if’ scenarios, but being a ghost gave him a lot of time to think. Usually he would distract himself by reading over some unsuspecting shoulder or perhaps stalking one of his other siblings (though that often led him back to the what ifs), but right now, Ben didn’t want to wander far from Klaus. Some of the things Klaus had said pissed him off, but not enough to abandon his brother in a place practically teaming with ghosts while he was detoxing.</p><p>In fact, Ben tended to put more effort into controlling his annoyance and staying by Klaus’ side when his brother was in withdrawal and/or sober. Part of his motivation had to do with positive reinforcement (teaching Klaus that his sober self was more pleasant to be around) and the other part was that Ben firmly believed no one, not even Klaus, should go through such a horrible experience without any emotional support. Then again, those periods when his brother was coming down were also when Ben felt most helpless, more so even than when Klaus would drink or get high for the first time after a brief stint with sobriety. All he could do sometimes was look on while his brother hurt himself, either directly or by proxy, or was hurt by others.</p><p>In the two and a half years that Klaus had been homeless, Ben bore witness to cruelty beyond anything he could have conceived of otherwise. That’s not to say that the earlier years were a walk in the park, but unfortunately, his brother’s life just seemed to get progressively worse. There were brief periods, days usually, weeks at best, where things would seem to be looking up, but it never lasted.</p><p>Ben really hoped that Vanya’s presence in Klaus’ life would facilitate less transient improvement, but he had serious doubts. Though surely a maladaptive defense mechanism of sorts, Klaus had a tendency of alienating (or at least trying to alienate) anyone who demonstrated even the smallest amount of care and kindness towards him. Diego saw through the act with ease and didn’t take anything Klaus said seriously (which caused an entirely different set of problems), but Vanya was sweet, sensitive, and took everything to heart. Perhaps it was in vain, but all Ben could really do was hope. He hoped that their sister could see through Klaus’ bravado and that she wouldn’t dismiss his all his struggles as a side effect of addiction like Diego did. The addiction was undoubtedly an issue and caused even more, but it wasn’t the root of Klaus’ problems, it was just another maladaptive coping mechanism.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>When he saw Dr. Franklin leave Klaus’ room, Ben straightened from his position slouched against the nurses’ station. Quickly, he tried to choose between checking on his brother or following the psychiatrist to hopefully get a peek at her notes. Ultimately, he headed fro Klaus’ room; as much as he wanted to know what the doctor thought, invading his brother’s privacy like that was wrong. Ben could try rationalizing it with the argument that the more he knew about his brother’s condition and mindset, the more he could help, but it was a flimsy justification at best and after all, the ghost was only arguing with himself.</p><p>“Ben!” Klaus greeted his brother with a smile when the ghost phased through the wall.</p><p>Ben didn’t say anything, heading for the chair in the far corner. With a quickly concealed pout, the medium returned to the activity that had been in progress when his brother returned, which appeared to be… relatively calm, bidirectional conversation with the other ghosts present? <em>Well that’s new,</em> Ben watched as Klaus addressed a frail young woman in a pink bathrobe,<em> and where did the jumper go?</em></p><p>“Well then, what should I do?” the woman was asking, “how do I let them know that I’m still here? They can’t see me.”</p><p>“Hate to break it to ya, darling, but you’re dead,” the gentle approach had never been Klaus’ forte, it required too much patience, “go see your family at home or whatever, make sure they’re done grieving, then move on,”</p><p>“Why are you so mean?”</p><p>Ben smiled a little; it was nice to see his brother trying to manage the ghosts while sober. That said, he was pretty sure it wouldn’t last. As soon as he was discharged, Klaus would go back to the drugs. The ghost hated himself a bit for having so little faith in his brother’s strength of character, but he’d been proven right time and time again.</p><p>Rubbing at his wrists through his jacket, Ben contemplated his own feelings of helplessness. <em>The pain was supposed to go away when I died,</em> he rubbed harder, using enough force to make impressions in the ghostly leather, <em>that was the whole point. I just want it all to stop!</em></p><p>“B?” a tentative voice broke through Ben’s wallowing, “do you want me to go find you a book? I’m sure there are a few lying around somewhere in this building.”</p><p>“It’s fine Klaus. You should stay in bed anyway.”</p><p>“Spoil sport,” Klaus grumbled, but his tone was gentler than usual, “I had a whole adventure planned.”</p><p>“Did you, now?”</p><p>Before the potential adventure in search of literary entertainment could be discussed further, there was a knock on the door. Without waiting for the request, Ben phased through the wall to check who was visiting. “It’s Dr. Ramón again,” he announced when he returned, “I think he wants to talk about rehab again.”</p><p>Klaus frowned. “Come on in, doc,” he called, the attempt at voice projection triggering another bout of coughing.</p><p>Dr. Ramón appeared to be somewhat concerned by the hacking (much like Ben was), and lifted his stethoscope from around his neck in leiu of greeting. Once the doctor had listened to Klaus’ breathing in several locations and made some notes in the chart, he took a seat and introduced himself again (correctly assuming that the patient wasn’t connecting his face with his name). “Ask him about how the antibiotics are working,” Ben requested.</p><p>“My brother wants to know if I’m gonna be visiting him on the ghostly plane anytime soon,” Klaus addressed the doctor.</p><p>“I thought Diego left.”</p><p>“Different brother.”</p><p>“Alright,” Dr. Ramón didn’t push for an explanation, “well I can’t make any promises because I was pretty sure you were dead six hours ago, but with asystole as a baseline, I’d say you’re improving nicely.”</p><p>“See, the doc says I’m fine,” Klaus smiled at his brother, “so you can quit worrying.”</p><p>“He said that your heart is still beating, that’s a far cry from being fine,” Ben grumbled, directing the patient’s attention back to Dr. Ramón, “just listen to him please.”</p><p>Klaus rolled his eyes, but returned to his conversation with the doctor anyway. “Don’t worry about it, doc. This morning wasn’t the first time I’ve died; it’s happened-” his brother looked at him with raised eyebrows and Ben reluctantly held up three fingers, “at most three times.”</p><p>“At least three times.”</p><p>“Shush.”</p><p>“I would advise you to try and avoid making it four,” Dr. Ramón cut in, “even if you’ve managed to come back to life thus far, it can’t be good for your health.”</p><p>“You’re the expert on health here, doc.”</p><p>“Ask him about your lungs,” Ben knew he was starting to nag, but unlike with Dr. Franklin, he felt no guilt about doing everything possible to get more information about Klaus’ physical health.”</p><p>“I’m sure my lungs are fine, Ben.”</p><p>“Your lungs are most certainly not fine,” the doctor was clearly getting annoyed that he had to share his patient’s attention with what he assumed was just a hallucination, “the antibiotics will work, but you’ve been on them for less than a day, so you very much still have pneumonia. I suspect this isn’t the first time either, not to mention the damage done by smoking.”</p><p>“Well, no need to sugar coat it.”</p><p>“I came in to discuss rehab with you, but if you refuse to make the effort to recover, there’s not much I can do to help.”</p><p>“No worries,” Klaus smiled, “once the infections are cleared up, I’ll get out of your hair.”</p><p>“Klaus,” Dr. Ramón set down the brochures he’d brought with him, “you aren’t the first addict I’ve treated, you’re not even the first self-medicating homeless addict I’ve treated. What makes you different from most of those patients is that you have a support system and a reason to put effort into recovery.”</p><p>“How do you figure that?”</p><p>“Your brother, Diego? He wants to help. Your sister, Vanya? She wants to help. That’s already a lot more than most folks in your situation have. In addition, it seems like at least your sister had the resources for it.”</p><p>“So Vanya’s rich?” Klaus giggled.</p><p>“Not necessarily, but I’d recommend going to her before Diego.”</p><p>“So would I,” Ben piped up.</p><p>“You just want to spend more time with her and not feel guilty for abandoning me,” Klaus argued.</p><p>“I’m going to head out,” Dr. Ramón announced, placing the pamphlets in the patient’s lap, “think about it.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>After the doctor left and while Klaus was engaging the woman who’d come to deliver lunch in conversation, Ben thought about the accusation his brother had made. He couldn’t honestly deny the desire to spend more time with his other siblings, or as <em>with</em> them as he could be. It was also true that part of what kept Ben by Klaus’ side was fear of the guilt that would ensue should something happen to his brother while the ghost was away.</p><p>Then again, even with him around, all sorts of horrible things happened to Klaus. Ben hadn’t been able to do anything when Klaus bought from a new dealer who cut the coke with fentanyl and stopped breathing for several minutes. He was completely helpless when his brother’s romantic partners started smacking him around or when a client went far past the agreed upon limits. The thing about that, though, was Klaus knew what he was getting himself into. If there was any area where he undeniably succeeded, it was interpersonal interaction, people.</p><p>It made sense that he would excel in the social arena; Klaus had been exposed to more different personalities (albeit ghostly ones) growing up than the rest of the Hargreeves children combined. Regardless of how the skill set developed, he was a good judge of character; he knew which of the folks in rehab would actually recover (Ben checked), which dealers not to trust (usually), which boyfriends were going to get violent, but sometimes he just didn’t care.</p><p>Even after several years of observation, Ben couldn’t wrap his head around how his brother figured out these sorts of things. Perhaps it wasn’t as unique an ability outside the Hargreeves family, but to a shy, poorly-socialized, introvert like himself, it seemed nearly as extraordinary as the seeing ghosts thing. Yet, much like his powers as a medium, Klaus refused to use his remarkable people skills for his own benefit.<em> Okay, maybe that’s not entirely true,</em> Ben decided, <em>he’ll use them to score, to steal, to do other illegal things, just not to protects his health and wellbeing.</em></p><p>That was another thing the ghost didn’t understand about his brother. Ben could too easily understand wanting to hurt yourself, just not in the way Klaus usually did it. Directly harmful activities, things like cutting, made sense as self-regulatory behaviors, and overexertion or drinking to excess could be explained by someone deliberately ignoring their own limits in pursuit of some goal or other, but seeking out romantic and sexual partners who would reliably turn violent…. Why would someone do that? Maybe Klaus was a masochist, but Ben tried to avoid getting any more involved in his brother’s sex life than he absolutely had to for safety reasons. Even if that was the case, there was a difference between engaging in sexual sadomasochism and attempting self harm by proxy.</p><p>For what was probably close to the millionth time, Ben considered two possible explanations. One, Klaus was trying to punish himself, maybe even thought he deserved the abuse, or two, he stuck to what he knew: older men who treated him like shit. Neither explanation really seemed right, but the ghost couldn’t think of anything better. He felt so useless sometimes. <em>Or all the time really…</em></p><p>“Ben?”</p><p>Once more, the ghost was torn from his quickly spiraling thoughts. “Yeah?”</p><p>“Um… I forget,” Klaus smiled, then yawned, “did they give me a sedative when I wasn’t paying attention?”</p><p>“No, you’re just sick,” Ben was pleased to see that his brother had finished nearly half of the hospital-provided meal, “take a nap. Vanya should be back in a few hours.”</p><p>“You’ll be here when I wake up?”</p><p>“If course I will, its not like I’ve got a busy social schedule.”</p><p>“You’re funny. For a dead guy.”</p><p>“Ouch.”</p><p>The brothers were both silent for a moment. “Promise you won’t leave, Ben?”</p><p>“I promise, Klaus.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>From here on, updates are gonna slow down because I don't have much pre-written. Apparently I was overly ambitious in my original update planning.</p><p>Chapter 6: Vanya and Diego's POVs</p><p>Update Dec. 11: Chapter 6 is mostly written, I'm just trying to figure out how to wrap it up.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. I Put My Mind In Cruise Control</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Starring:<br/>Vanya Hargreeves<br/>Diego Hargreeves</p><p>Recurring:<br/>Al of Al's Gym<br/>Vanya's Medication</p><p>Guest Stars:<br/>Luther Hargreeves (voice)<br/>The Typewriter</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry it took so long. This chapter didn't turn out the way I planned it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first thing Vanya did upon arriving home was grab a glass of water and swallow two pills. Though they didn’t work immediately, she felt calmer just knowing that the anxiety would fade into numbness soon. Honestly, she’d felt pretty good without any meds in her system (if she ignored the rollercoaster of extreme emotions). Maybe it was time to visit a psychiatrist and try switching meds or something, perhaps just changing the dosage of her current prescription.</p><p><em>Focus! I need to change, eat something, and get back to the hospital. If Klaus is detoxing, he shouldn’t be alone.</em> With that thought in mind, Vanya traded her rumpled orchestra-practice clothes for jeans, a t-shirt, and a soft flannel button down which she left open. <em>Should I bring clothes for Klaus,</em> she wondered, <em>he’s too tall for anything of mine and…</em></p><p>Before the thought could proceed into a consideration of what women’s sizes would fit her brother, the musician was interrupted by the landline ringing. The only people who had reason to call her were the orchestra, her students’ parents, and the hospital. Since there was no practice today and she’d canceled her lessons, that only left one possibility; something must have happened to Klaus.</p><p>“Hello?” Vanya did her best to disguise the panic she was feeling.</p><p>“Uh, Vanya?”</p><p>“Luther?” that was definitely not who she was expecting.</p><p>“Yeah, Pogo said you called.”</p><p>“Right, I did. Um… it was about Klaus. The hospital thought he was dying… but he’s fine now so…”</p><p>“Ah, okay then. I’m just… gonna go.”</p><p>“Oh. Um… yeah. Bye Luther,” her brother had hung up before she even arrived at the final syllable of his name.</p><p>To the general public, Luther’s abrupt conclusion of the conversation might have seemed rude, but if Vanya were to line up every interaction she’d ever had with this particular brother in order of increasing dismissiveness, the most recent got lost among hundreds from their adolescence. In terms of relative hostility, the brief discussion of Klaus’ health was one of her most amicable encounters with Luther since age five.</p><p>Vanya didn’t actually remember much from before then, but she did have a few memories that had stuck around. Part of the reason for that was her journaling; ever since her first therapist recommended the practice, Vanya wrote down anything she remembered about growing up. In fact, that was probably the only beneficial piece of advice that particular therapist gave. Everything else he’d said was utter bullshit and the experience put the musician off therapy for a solid few years. Later on, when she’d mentioned the journaling to a different, much more useful, therapist, the woman suggested that it had something to do with externalizing her trauma; once the memories were on the paper, they couldn’t hurt her anymore.</p><p>Though Vanya didn’t actively try to remember the specifics (or any of her childhood really), when something came to mind, good or bad, she wrote it down. Mostly it was bad. That said, a few happier memories made their way onto the page, if only so she could be sure that she wouldn’t forget the good bits. In Luther’s case, most everything post-age-five (at least that Vanya could remember) was negative, but she had one precious memory of him carrying her around all day when they were three or so. The details were a bit fuzzy, but she recalled tripping over something and bruising her knee, after which Luther spent the day providing transportation for his smallest sister.</p><p>When they were five, something must have happened, because after that, Vanya’s memories (especially those involving Number One) were largely melancholy or didn’t have any strong emotion attached to them. At first she assumed that Luther had changed, but he wasn’t the only sibling with newfound hostility towards Vanya when she returned from quarantine in the basement, so maybe she was the one who changed.</p><p>With that thought in mind, the musician went to retrieve her typewriter and the binder serving as her most recent journal. She preferred writing by hand, but after a case of carpal tunnel so severe that she couldn’t play violin for a week, Vanya bought the typewriter in the window of the pawnshop she walked past most days.</p><p>As she sat down and loaded the paper, she felt a surge of guilt. <em>Klaus is all alone at the hospital,</em> Vanya frowned, <em>I said that I’d be back, but I didn’t specify an exact time. It’s not like he wanted me around anyway.</em> The justification put her mind at ease enough for her fingers to take on a life of their own. They kept going until the words exchanged with Luther (and the encounter with Diego) were all but forgotten.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Most days, Diego missed Eudora to a degree, but some were worse than others. Usually, the feeling was more of a background buzz, like sore muscles or a persistent but mild headache, only becoming more acute when he was horny. Since the breakup, he’d had a few one-night stands, but honestly, Diego preferred his less socially acceptable nighttime activities to the effort of picking up ladies in clubs or bars.</p><p>Days like today, though, he missed Eudora like when they’d just broken up. She would always listen patiently when Diego ranted about his siblings and his childhood, soothing his anger and numbing the pain. The one exception occurred when he’d told her about what happened with Vanya. It was a few months after Diego had been kicked out of the police academy for insubordination and only a couple days after his falling out with his sister. Though he’d denied it at the time, he could now recognize that Eudora was right (to a degree) about his hypocrisy. He’d gotten pissed when Vanya offered a gentle reminder that the breaking-and-entering and assault-with-deadly-weapons involved in his late night heroics was technically illegal, but then turned around and lectured Klaus about petty crime a day later.</p><p>Since Eudora had pointed it out, Diego really did try to change his behavior; he’d begun to verbally antagonize his opponents into attacking first so he could then claim self defense and he’d stopped harping on Klaus’ thievery and solicitation. Instead, Diego focused on the drug use and unsafe sexual practices when he felt the need to lecture his brother. He never did apologize to Vanya though. The thought that perhaps he should do so didn’t occur to him until several months after the inciting conversation, at which point it would have just been awkward.</p><p>As he took out the trash, Diego wondered what Eudora would say about Klaus’ current circumstances. She would probably insist on visiting him in the hospital and likely even bring along something like a teddy bear holding balloons. Klaus would have joked about the gift, maybe even teased Diego about it or said something rude, but secretly, he would have loved it. Of all seven Hargreeves siblings, Klaus was the most fond of stuffed animals as they were growing up.</p><p><em>Klaus in the hospital is a decent excuse to reconnect with Vanya,</em> the thought popped into Diego’s mind unbidden, <em>she doesn’t know that he ends up in the ER every few months. What would she bring? Definitely not a stuffed animal or balloons… Flowers maybe? Nah, that doesn’t sound like her. Does it? What the hell do I know?</em></p><p>Before Diego’s contemplation of well he really knew his siblings could get any deeper, he was interrupted by Al calling for him. “Don’t skip my office!” the gym owner shouted the reminder down the hall.</p><p><em>As if I ever do,</em> Diego didn’t bother replying but headed for Al’s office anyway. “I need you to watch the gym for a bit, yeah?” the man didn’t look up from his ancient PC, “I’ll be back tomorrow.”</p><p>“You’ve got… an event tonight, though.”</p><p>“Well obviously I’m gonna need you to handle it.”</p><p>“That’s a first.”</p><p>“And if you fuck it up, it’ll be the last,” Al finally looked up from his screen, “I’m not gettin’ and younger so you better not screw me over.”</p><p>The sentence didn’t make much sense to Diego, but he got the essence of it: if anything went wrong during the fights being hosted at the gym later, he’d be looking for a new place to live, not to mention a new job. “I had plans tonight,” Diego grumbled, fully aware that he was going to be conceding the argument in the near future.</p><p>“Cancel ’em.”</p><p>“Well then I want half of your cut,” it was an optimistic demand, but Diego never backed down easily.</p><p>“Fifty percent of the door, twenty-five of the rest,” Al offered.</p><p>“Seventy-five of the door, twenty-five of the pool, and fifty of the extras.”</p><p>“Fifty of the door, twenty-five of the pool, and forty of the extras. Final offer.”</p><p>“Fine. You’ve got a deal.”</p><p>“I’m givin’ you a chance to earn extra this week, drop the tough guy act and take out the trash.”</p><p>“Not an act,” Diego mumbled under his breath, moving around the desk to collect empty coffee cups and takeout boxes before actually addressing the bin, “would it kill you to actually use the can?”</p><p>“What was that?”</p><p>“Nothing.”</p><p>“Sure, whatever. This place better be spotless when I get back tomorrow morning.”</p><p>“What?” Diego made an 180 as he was about to exit, “come on Al, you know how it gets in here after a few fights.”</p><p>“Spic and span,” the older man emphasized, “think of your brother’s hospital bills and be grateful I’m givin’ you this chance.”</p><p>Diego bit his tongue, figuratively and literally, quickly leaving the room. It was moments like these that the gym owner really reminded him of Allison; neither person took ‘no’ for an answer and they both thought they knew what was best for him.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>By the time Vanya looked up from her typewriter, several hours had gone by, her fingers were sore, and she was surrounded by pages of text that she couldn’t recall writing. Gathering the papers into a stack, the musician was about to begin figuring out the appropriate sequence in which to add them to the binder when the clock caught her eye. <em>Shit,</em> she jumped from her seat, <em>shit, shit, shit! I forgot about Klaus.</em></p><p>Shoving down the ensuing guilt to be dealt with later, Vanya rushed to her bedroom, quickly digging through her drawers to find the largest clothes she owned. Next, she grabbed a container of leftovers from the fridge, her wallet and keys, and the prescription bottle still sitting on the table, throwing everything into a bag and heading out the door.</p><p>She was tempted to stop and take a pill before getting in the car, but guilt quickly overwhelmed the building anxiety. <em>I’ll take it when I get to the hospital, it’s gonna be okay. Everything will be fine.</em></p><p>Vanya was still thoroughly unconvinced of the situation’s ‘fine-ness’ when she pulled into the hospital parking lot. Spending the entire drive imagining disaster scenarios hadn’t exactly helped.</p><p>First, she’d gone over the possibility of Klaus dying again which quickly spiraled into concerns that he might have escaped the hospital somehow and she would be receiving a call when the police found his body in a few days. Thoughts of the police led Vanya’s brain to Diego, his vigilantism, and the high likelihood of his extracurriculars landing him in the hospital. For a millisecond she had the urge to call him and make sure he was still breathing, but the idea was easily squashed by the memory of running into said brother at the hospital earlier and being summarily ignored. <em>Speaking (or rather thinking) of brothers, what if Luther shows up? </em>Vanya panicked, nearly scraping the curb as she turned a corner, <em>no, he won’t come. He’s still under Dad’s thumb and never liked Klaus much anyway.</em></p><p>As they were growing up, Number One only ever got along well with Numbers Three and Six. Then again, all of them had favored Ben, and Luther’s relationship with Allison was something Vanya had been trying not to think about since they were twelve years old. Luther and Diego got along in a manner that was probably typical for brothers, if one ignored the super-powered bullying aspect. They were in constant competition for parental approval and always fighting with each other, but ultimately some amount of love and understanding existed underneath all the animosity.</p><p>Klaus got along best with Allison and Diego as a kid, and his relationship with Luther was tumultuous at best. Vanya had always assumed that she was Luther’s least favorite sibling, what with the constant and active exclusion, but perhaps it wasn’t so clear cut. After all, she may have been shut out and ignored, but Klaus had been actively ridiculed and disparaged by some of the siblings, Luther especially.</p><p><em>Stop comparing trauma,</em> the musician reminded herself, <em>no one’s struggles are more or less valid than anyone else’s.</em> Vanya repeated the words in her mind as she entered the elevator. She’d gotten them from a past therapist, a particularly effective one, who had noticed that Vanya only ever spoke about her childhood experiences relative to those of her siblings. <em>I should probably go back into therapy, </em>she frowned at the thought, <em>but with Klaus’ medical bills, my savings are already going to be depleted...</em></p><p>The thoughts were quickly replaced by panic when Vanya heard shouting from the direction of Klaus’ room.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Updates are gonna be really slow from now on because I don't have anything pre-written and this chapter's ending was brought on by a sudden burst of inspiration that fucked over my whole outline.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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